


Similiar Interests

by killerkitty15



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Delusions, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Investigations, Jealousy, M/M, Madness, Male Slash, Mayhem, Murder, Past Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Slash, Team Up, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2018-12-18 13:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11875692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerkitty15/pseuds/killerkitty15
Summary: Joker suggests a team up when a new villian settles in Gotham. Little do they know... that's all the push they're going to need.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> This is a snippet of a story idea I'm fiddling with. If I get positive reviews/comments/etc than I'm gonna be interested in continuing it so your cooperation is appreciated.

When Bruce sat down for breakfast -still groggy from too little sleep- aside Damien (the new Robin), Dick (Nightwing) and Barbara (Oracle), the last thing he expected was for one side of his dining room to crumble in a cloud of dust, accompanied by the loud clap of an explosion, which made his ears ring. The force knocked Bruce over and he landed painfully on his unprotected elbows, distractedly noting that Barbara had fallen out of her wheel chair and Damien’s plate and glass had fallen on the boy’s head and torso.

                “You three alright?” Bruce called when he had regained the breath that had been knocked out of him, coughing up dust and debris.

                “Peachy.”

                “All good here.”

                “Uh huh.”

                “Damien, help Barbara,” Bruce ordered, pulling himself up on his feet, ignoring the blood trickling down his temple, “Dick?”

                “Yeah, I’m up! What the Hell was that? Terrorist attack? Wayne Industries piss anyone off recently?”

                “Don’t be silly!” a chillingly familiar voice said as the villain emerged from the cloud, stepping over the rubble gracefully, “This visit is for pleasure, not business!” The Joker truly was a terrifying sight emerging from the dust and rubble like some kind of fucked up deity. Dread made Bruce’s stomach heavy. There was no Bat suit between the two of them. The Joker was in his _home_.

                “J-Joker!” the millionaire exclaimed, trying to sound like a scared civilian, pushing down the bubbling anger. How dare the lunatic blow up his house?

                “Batsy, _sweetheart_ , do you really think so little of me? After all these _years_ do you _really_ think I’m as stupid as _everyone else?_ I know _who you are,”_ Joker said, running his tongue over the front of his teeth and over his scars, his lips pulled back in a grin that was shark like.

                _“…How?”_

                “Oh, _honey_ , it was easy! The citizens of Gotham are just stupid, pathetic _sheepeople_ , is all! Of course, I had to do some research. I didn’t want to _waste my time_ , it’s very _precious_ to me,” the Clown Prince of Crime said, his grin stretching even further as he reached behind him, yanking forth a blonde woman in a smart suit, covered in dust and dirt, make up messy from the tears and snot running down her face. Bruce’s secretary. “Janine here was too _observant_ for her own good, y’see? She –uh – _figured_ _out_ her boss was none other than _the_ Batman.” She sobbed and struggled, much to the Joker’s amusement. “What? You wanna say somethin’ to your former boss?” the clown asked with a smile and giggle, ripping the duct tape off her face, “Make sure to speak up, toots, so _Mr. Wayne_ can hear you now!”

                “M-Mr. Wayne, I’m sorry! So sorry! H-He has my ki-!”

                “Th _aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa_ t’s enough outta you!” Joker said cheerfully, placing the duct tape back over the woman’s mouth as she cried out in terror, a sound that wrenched at Bruce’s heart, “Oh, don’t be such a _drama queen!_ I’m nothing if not a man of my word where the Bat’s involved! I’ll let your family go – _unharmed_ , mind you! … _You_ , on the other hand, well… we’ll see!” The woman screamed as she was tossed away, presumably in the general direction of the Joker’s goons.

                “Don’t hurt her, Joker,” Bruce growled, his voice lowering in his no nonsense “Batman voice”, anger and irritation at the scene reflected in his unreadable expression and clipped tone, ignoring how the Joker’s eyes widened in excitement and the mad man visibly shivered.

“ _What?_ You found of the woman, Bats? You two _play together_ during work hours?”

 “She has nothing to do with this-.”

“That’s right! She has _nothing to do with this!”_ he snarled, baring his teeth like a wild animal, his irritation suddenly morphing into anger, “It’s bad enough I gotta share you with these _amateurs_ ” –he motioned to where Damien and Dick hovered protectively in front of Barbara, tense and ready to attack when the opportunity presented itself –“and all the half-wit criminals in this city, trying to replace _me_ as your number one problem, I’m not going to let a _random fucking interloper_ ruin _our_ fun by risking your identity to the _whole fucking world!_ People that _don’t care!_ These fucking morons polluting _our world!”_

“What do you _want?”_ Bruce asked again, saying each word slowly and carefully, desperately trying not to let his anger show –he didn’t want to give the Joker the satisfaction –but unable to hide it completely. The madman always _knew_ what buttons to push to get a rise of Bruce.

 _“Right._ I want you, _obviously_. Same old, same old. But I –uh –also want to… call a _temporary_ truce.”

“Bullshit!” Damien growled, shoving Dick away when the older hero tried to keep him under control, “Like we’d believe you. What kind of half assed scheme is this?!”

“Damien, language,” Bruce scolded but with no real heat (the scolding was more instinctual), his eyes never leaving the Joker who turned to look at the Wayne heir –his expression bitter and malicious, but one Bruce had difficulty pin pointing the exact name of on the Joker’s face –with narrowed eyes.

“What is this ‘we’, half pint? I was talking to my Batsy –NOT YOU!” the Joker said, his voice rising in a scream, fists clenched and a bit of color rising to his permanently pale face, making Bruce tense anxiously. It had been awhile since he had seen Joker angry from the very pits of his toxic soul. “This isn’t a ‘half assed scheme’, you illegitimate little shit” –it was a testament to how angry he was that there was no clever, pun centered insult thrown Damien’s way, just something objectively hateful; Joker turned back to Bruce, fixing his hair, and the millionaire suddenly realized the Joker had been edging closer to him during the entire confrontation –“I want to call a _temporary_ truce be _cause_ there’s a certain individual in this _shit hole_ that needs to be dealt with. They’d ruin what we have going on here, Bats. They’d tip the fragile equilibrium you’ve established –with my help, might I add –and ruin _my_ fun _and_ my business profits.”

It honestly took a minute for Bruce to completely comprehend what the villain was saying and, when he finally did understand, it was impossible to keep the shock from his face.

“Are you suggesting that you and Batman… team up?” Dick asked, voicing his mentor’s disbelief.

Joker smiled and he resembled a wolf trying to convince its prey that it was domesticated… and failing. “Bingo, Robin Numero Uno! Looks like you’re not _completely_ stupid,” the clown said before turning back to the uncostumed Batman with a grin no less evil but much more… normal (Joker’s normal) and much less… unarming, “So, Bats, Batsy, _Brucey_ ” –he licked his lips hungrily as he sometimes did when they faced off no matter what the setting –“what do you say? We gotta deal?”


	2. What We Need is Proof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation!

Now dressed in their costumes and armor, the Bat family crowded around the computer in the Batcave, Joker chained, locked up and unconscious in a cell made up of bullet proof glass, not too far from them. 

"There's nothing in the police records or the news that suggests there's a new criminal in Gotham doing any serious damage," Oracle said, fingers flying across the keyboard, her face twisted in anger and irritation, "Let's just face it: Joker's just messing with us. He's lying. A bored psycho who's fixated on the Batman."

"I don't buy it," Dick said, crossing his arms and chewing at what was salvaged from breakfast, "Look, Babs, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but Bruce and I've been fighting the Joker longer than you have and that's just not how he works."

"He _paralyzed_ _me."_

"I'm not saying he's a good guy, I'm saying he thinks a certain way. He does everything with a purpose. He's not just doing this to lie 'cause he's 'bored'."

"Both of you, enough," Bruce snapped, their bickering getting on his nerves. He didn't have time for this. There was something he was missing, something he couldn't see that would complete the puzzle before him. But what was it? What was he missing? "Stop acting like children. Dick, I want you out on the street, see if you can gather any information. Barbara, I want you to talk to Gordon and see if there's something off the record." 

"Let me guess, you want me to help Alfred clean up?" Damian snapped, scowling and -though no one would ever say it to his face- pouting. 

"After school," Bruce stated with a serious look that the vigilante had mastered over the time he had spent mentoring hormonal and bratty teenagers. 

With a huff, Robbin -for once- didn't argue, hopping off the table he was perched on. "Great. I rather deal with teenage, brain dead morons than this asshole-."

"Damian-." 

"-any longer than I have to," he finished dismissively not even giving the adults a backwards glance, "See ya, suckas." 

"...He finially started getting into cable?" 

"I don't know, but I'm pretty sure he has a stack of comics hidden somewhere in his room." 

Oracle laughed because, even though the Wayne heir could be a down right little _shit_ sometimes -with his arrogant, smartass attitude- he was, at his core, a kid. 

A loud groan interupted the pleasant atmosphere, immediately causing it to nose dive into tension. "Well, slap my great ass and call me Mama June..." the Joker mumbled, rolling onto his back and slowly blinking his eyes open, trying to get them to adjust, "I haven't felt this bad since... since the first few times I was in Arkham... oh, and college, don't forget college... fucking _shit_ , my _head..."_

"One of my colleages put you out with an elephant tranquilizer."

"Lemme guess? The butler did it?" the Joker chuckled, gradually coming back to himself. Something that had Bruce relaxing; he had been tense and anxious ever since Alfred had fired the dart that took out the clown. "Don't worry, Jeeves isn't on my shit list. Wouldn't want to muck shit up with my in-law." 

"We looked through the police reports, Joker. We haven't found anything that would support your little _dillusion_ ," Barbara snapped, unable to "productively" interact with the Joker since he paralyzed her.

"That's because Gotham's _finest_ aren't reporting what they think is 'irrelevant'. Incompetant hypocrites. The blind being led by the blind," he said as he slowly stood, letting out a breathless chuckle, "You're looking but you're not _seeing_ , Wheels. Come _on-_ I busted your _back_ , not your eyes!" 

Barbara was seething, face red and her shaky hands gripping her wheelchair until her knuckles turned white. She opened her mouth to say something but, thankfully, Dick interupted her. "Enough with the taunts. You sure aren't acting like you want to team up. Get an attitude adjustment." 

"How many times do I have to tell you _cos_ playing fan-freaks, I'm here for _Batsy_ , _not_ \- holy shit, wait! _Am I in the Batcave?!"_

"Wow. And he's calling us fangirls?" Dick muttered, quietly "pouting" in a way that was similar to Damian. Bruce wondered if they got it from him but quickly dismissed it, realizing he probably wouldn't like the answer. 

"Grow up. This isn't anything like that. This is like a wife getting invited to her hubby's man cave," the Joker said, smiling wickedly and wiggling his eyebrows in Bruce's direction, before he continued to look up and around the cave appreciatively, " _Damn_. Can't say I'd chose the color scheme but -hey- it just _screams_ hunk-a-hunk-a-brooding-love." 

"Proud of that one?" Bruce asked, unable to keep the snark from his tone as he watched his "archnemesis", feeling a bit proud that his "cave" impressed the clown so much. Very few people came down to the cave and even less appreciated how much effort went into its creation. 

"Give my brain time to come online, I'll think of something bet-" Joker stopped abruptly as he bumped into the bulletproof glass of his cell. "I'm... you put me in a cell..." he said, unnervingly calm and filled with disbelief as he ran his hands over the glass, "You put me in a cell... you _locked me up!"_  

The criminal started scremaing like an animal being slaughtered, banging his fists against the glass so hard it wasn't long before his knuckles turned bloody. 

"Give it a rest, Joker, you can't break through the glass," Dick said above the shrieking but was ignored as Joker ran across the cell only to collide with startling force against the other glass wall, collapsing in a heap. 

Bruce watched impassively, concerned about the volitile outburst like always but unwilling to let that worry show on his face. "Are you done?" 

The other man laughed but it was humourless. Chilling. "I should've known you wouldn't trust me. Wouldn't _believe_ me. You don't trust me," the villian lamentd from his spot on the floor, eyes and face empty in a way that seemed to suck all positivity from the room, "I've never _lied_ to you. Not my sweet Bats. I hurt you and you hurt me but... I _don't lie._ I've always been up front with you -about my _mission_ , my _desires_ , my plans - _everything_. Do you think I tell birdbrain over there what I tell you? Do you think I want to cut off his skin and wrap it around me? Or be the blood pumping in his veins?" 

"There is no evidence to what you're suggesting," Batman responded, ignoring how much sense Joker was making at the moment. Agreeing with the clown -sympathizing- with him on anything was dangerous. "Find me evidence and I'll... consider your truce." 

"What?!" 

"Bruce-!" 

The affect was instantaneous. Joker shot up, trembling with hysteric elation, eyes desperate but hopeful, his grin all teeth. "Batsy, _baby_ , I knew you'd _see_ it eventually," the lunatic swooned, ignoring his bleeding forehead as he stood, his blood dripping down his face, "I'll show you the first place to look, _my darling."_


	3. First Night Out With a Psycho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman and Joker in the sewers

The Joker was humming something as he twirled around on Gotham’s streets, shrouded in the darkness of night. Bruce didn’t recognize the song, but it was plausible that the song was one that Joker had made up; he had sung so many to Bruce over the years he could no longer remember how it had begun or why or which were real and which ones weren’t.

“Where are you taking me?” Batman asked, walking a couple steps behind the Joker, alert to the Joker’s movements as well to those around him, ignoring no sounds or flickering shadows.

“Hmm, it's a _surprise,”_ the Joker hummed, popping the “p” in the word “surprise”, “But, let’s just say you aren't the only night prowler in Gotham I happen to know.”

The vigilante scowled, despite Joker’s mad giggling. What was that even supposed to mean? Was there another hero here? Was it this supposed criminal? Or something much different-.

“Bruce, I don't think this is a good idea,” Barbara said for the upteenth time that night, her voice coming in worried over the communication system, “You should have taken Dick or Damien-.”

“There’s no way I'm interested in being caught between the Joker and his obsession,” Damian said dryly from the other end.

“Robin,” Bruce sighed, pinching his nose between his forefinger and thumb, making the Joker whip around to glare and snarl at the other man, “Get off the comm. Do your homework, help Alfred clean up the dining room and go to bed.”

“Who do you think you are?”

“Your father. Now stop being a brat and do as I say.”

Without a word, Damian's line clicked, signaling that he had indeed gotten off the comm but the rest of his father’s instructions were probably going to go ignored.

“It seems like he's in a good mood, as always,” Barbara murmured.

“Oracle, check up on Nightwing. Come back to me if you have something.”

_“Fine.”_

“Family trouble?” Joker asked sarcastically, tone venomous, eyes dangerous. He had stopped walking completely, hands fisted at his sides, muscles tense like he was ready to jump on Bruce’s back and stab him in the throat.

Batman just stared at him, wondering not for the first time what the problem was with Joker and the rest of his team but, unlike all the other times, he didn't dismiss it as a symptom of whatever madness the Joker was inflicted with. He thought over his words carefully before he said, “Robin really is my son. Biologically. And I adopted Nightwing.”

The madman got a particular look in his eyes. Uncertainty?

“They're like… brothers, sons, wards. I make sure they get into good schools, bug them to do their homework and to get their dolls out of the hallway.”

At that, Joker cracked up, laughing hysterically. Even clutching his sides. “Which one was _that?!_ Wait, wait, _wait!_ Let me guess! The original?”

The smirk that spread across his face was unexpected but it really couldn't be helped. The memories of Dick’s childhood weren't always pretty but there were small moments that made it seem like a perfect partnership. The first Robin really did feel like more than a student sometimes, like a little brother and -yes, occasionally- a son. “He’d become hysterical any time I threatened to toss one in the trash if I stepped on one again.”

“...y’know, I’d never thought I'd say this but you make a decent dad, Batsy,” the Joker said, scratching his cheek and oddly serious. It wasn't something that Bruce saw a lot but, when he did, it was always intense. “But I think you'd make a better ‘Daddy’ if you know what I mean.”

 _And the moment is ruined._ If they had been having a moment, that is.

“Where are we going, Joker?”

The clown prince simply smiled, twirling on his heels and continuing to lead Bruce to his unknown destination, picking his humming back up. Turned out they weren’t far off from where the Joker wanted them to go and they soon came to a crumbling overpass; men, women and even some children sitting around fires, dirty and in patched up clothes, talking and eating whatever they happened to scrounge up. “Ta-da! Welcome to part of my information superhighway!” the Joker said, grinning widely, “The people the GCPD tend to -uh- _overlook.”_

“So they have the evidence I’m looking for?”

“Ding, ding, ding, we got a winner!” he cackled, moving towards the overpass confidently, “Stay close, Batsy-baby! I’ll protect ya!”

With a nearly silent huff, Batman followed the Joker -who got untrustworthy looks as he passed but, otherwise, was not stopped or confronted- who headed straight for a scantily clad, middle aged woman who was talking animatedly with some girls no older than their early twenties. “No, I told you girls -the buddy system. What part of that don’t you understand? I know y’all at least passed middle school. You’re not leavin’ each other alone out there! You keep track of each other at all ti-.”

“Debra! Looking absolutely miserable as always!” the Joker said in greeting, smile wide and arms extended, “What is it this time? Crabs? The clap?”

“Whatever it is, seeing your face doesn’t help,” Debra quipped, lighting a cigarette casually as she turned to face the two of them, her gaze rolled over to Bruce and she frowned, raising her eyebrows, “Why is your boyfriend here?”

Though he wouldn't let it show on his face, Batman was practically in awe. Never before had he seen Joker acting so… _chummy._ So friendly without any threats of violence or malice. He was acting… _normal._ As if he were meeting with an old friend.

Joker giggled almost coyly, sliding up to Debra’s side, even if she stuck her hand out to keep him from getting too close. “Well, we have a lil deal, him and me. Why don’t you tell him about the missing… what you call ‘em, Bats? _Vagrants?”_

She rolled her eyes but looked at Batman as she did as the Joker asked. “I’m Debra. I keep track of all the homeless in Gotham. Make sure they’re not disturbing each other, causing fights. Keeping track of names and spots. I also got responsibility over a lot of the prostitutes. The beginners. Make sure they’re clean, tell them what doctors are willing to prescribe what they need, ‘remove’ what they need, etcetera.”

“Tell him about the missing ones!” Joker said, almost excitedly but mostly impatient as he shook the woman almost violently.

Again, Debra rolled her eyes, making an irritated sound in the back of her throat. Bruce didn't know how to feel as he watched the two of them. What was Joker up to? Why was he acting so differently? Was it another symptom of his madness or was his madness a lie all along? “I’ve noticed that more than a few of them have gone missing. They’re vanishing faster than new homeless are appearing. Usually there’s some kind of trace of them, even if they’re not on the street or their usual spot, but with this there’s nothing. When people go missing like that, their friends, people they call family in the community will go looking for them but none of their bodies were found.”

“You'll understand if I have a hard time believing this. If there's no bodies then there's no way to prove if what you're saying is true.”

“I never said there wasn't any bodies,” she said coldly, taking a long drag of her cigarette before speaking again, “I said that we couldn't find the bodies.”

_“They're in Killer Croc’s sewers.”_

“I'm not showing those to him, Jay,” the prostitute cut in sharply and, for the first time, Joker looked incensed by her.

_“Why the Hell not?!”_

Though Bruce would never admit it, he was relieved watching the clown’s face twist up in such an ugly, miserable expression of anger and irritation. He refused to admit that he was more than a little worried about Joker’s pleasant behavior (he chucked it up to past experience with the terrorist, not daring to name nor acknowledge the writhing _feeling_ in his stomach that grew stronger the longer he watched them).

“You know damn well that we have a deal with him, and I'm not willing to put us all at risk because of…” she angrily motioned between Joker and Batman, keeping her voice down low, _“this.”_

“...A little bitch as always, huh?” Joker finally scoffed, still irritated but reasonably under control, “Just give us the fucking ledger and what's the closest manhole to Croc.”

Debra sighed, after glaring at the clown for a couple, tense minutes, nodding and clearly deciding that doing as the Joker wished with little resistance would be in her best interest; his shoulders had already tensed up from trying to control himself and that bothered Bruce more than it should have. She took a little pocket book from the pocket of her faux fur coat and passed it to the clown, glaring at him nastily. “I want it back.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” he muttered, placing the book in an inner pocket of his coat, clearly having lost interest in the girl and whatever argument or discussion they could find themselves in, “The _manhole?_ Chop, chop, _time’s a-wastin’!”_

“There's one on 8th and Clark. After you get down there stick to your right and you'll smell the dead bodies eventually.”

“Thanks, darlin’,” the Joker said, quickly clinging to Batman’s arm -Bruce had to ignore how close his hand was to the other’s dick, but that was hard… he could feel the Joker’s body heat seeping through his clothes- and dragged them away as Debra waved them off dismissively, turning her attention to one of her girls and beginning to yell reprimands. The two of them walked quickly and silently to the manhole on 8th and Clark and, when they finally got to the deserted street, the clown grinned over his shoulder expectedly. “Well, Batsy, put those muscles to use and get this thing open.”

“...You seem to know that woman well,” the millionaire said carefully, fiddling around in his tool belt until he found the nightstick and used it to pry open the cover before lifting it the rest of the way off the hole.

“Who? Deb?” the clown said, tone dismissive and his eyes trained on the darkness beneath, glinting in amusement, “We’ve crossed paths a couple times. Go _waaaaaay_ back to when I was just starting out… not the evil mastermind you see before you. You remember those days, don’t you, Bats? When it was just you and me, taking our time to enjoy our dance…” Bruce watched as the criminal suddenly grew angry, face twisting in an ugly expression of anger and… was that jealousy? Yes, that’s what it looked like. “Before everyone else took your attention away from what was really important… _me.”_

The vigilante bit back any sort of reply he might have had, forgoing a witty remark to jump into the manhole, turning on a flashlight to see the arched ceilings that dripped into the foul smelling water below, fungus and bacteria sticking to the walls and growing along the narrow, cement walkways. It was startlingly silent, except for the echoes of dripping water. “Come on, let’s-.”

_“Catch me, Batsy!”_

With a start, Bruce jerked and, just in time, caught the Joker’s descending body, accidentally dropping his flashlight in the process. His muscled arms wrapped around the criminal’s lean body, one arm around the Joker’s back and the other beneath his ass, pressing their bodies close together. The criminal’s body was radiating heat, fitting tightly against his, purple slack covered thighs pressing against Batman’s hips, one hand gripping Bruce’s shoulder and arm thrown around the millionaire’s neck. It was dim, the flashlight hitting his boots, and they couldn’t see the other’s face, but Batman could feel his enemy’s breath on his face, smelling of toast and strawberry jam, the heat of it caressing the exposed skin of his face and seeping through the material of his mask. The situation was frighteningly intimate and there was an inner voice that screamed at him to drop the Joker and run away, from the Joker, the circumstances and the intense emotions swirling around in his head and in his stomach… but there was a larger part of him -fear, longing, madness- that kept Bruce rooted to the spot, trying to keep his breathing even and thoughts clear. The Joker shivered, Bruce drew him closer, and-.

“Bruce, everything ok?”

Barbara’s voice startled him out of whatever trance he had been in and Batman all but threw the Joker away from him, resisting the urge to run a hand over his face in frustration. _What was that?_ His chest felt heavy, his stomach queasy, what was… _what was that?_

“Yeah, we’re in the sewers. About to talk to Killer Croc.”

“Killer-- are you crazy?! Let me send Dick-!”

“We’ll be fine,” Bruce growled, annoyed by the shrill tone of worry in her voice, though he tried not to let it show, and bent down to pick up the flashlight, “I’ll tell you if we’re in trouble.”

 _“...Fine._ But tell me immediately.”

“Of course.” Batman turned toward the clown, mouth open to say… _something,_ he didn’t quite know what, but was startled to silence by the vehemence etched across Joker’s face.

The criminal was absolutely livid, shaking in barely contained rage and Batman felt a churning in his stomach; that level of rage without an outlet, especially Joker’s kind of rage, was never good. Would he turn it on himself or the nearest available source? Which would be Bruce? The fact that the millionaire couldn’t answer which one was worse didn’t go unnoticed but, like all his possibly life altering feelings/emotions/etc, it was pushed all the way to the back of his subconscious. Joker’s fists were clenched, his jaw tight, and, alarmingly, his deathly pale face was starting to lightly fill with color. He looked about ready to explode. “Th-That… fucking homewrecker!” he hissed, looking into the depths of the shit filled sewer water, “She’s always --why does she always try to come between us?! Who does she think she is?! I have to kill her, I have to--.”

 _“Joker,”_ Batman snapped and that vicious, venom glare turned to him, narrowing in, “There will be no killing of my colleagues. Right now we are here, in this disgusting sewer. Together. Trying to find Killer Croc. Together. So, can we get back on track?”

The psychotic clown blinked at him, confused, but when understanding finally dawned, his expression morphed into one of lovestruck awe. “You admit we’re together?!”

“Oh God, Joker—.”

“No, no, no, no! Let me have this!” the Joker quickly shouted, plugging his ears with his fingers like a child, “I’m leading you to Croc— I’m keeping this!”

Batman just sighed, reluctantly accepting that he would have to deal with this for now, as he followed the happily humming harlequin. He had only been out a couple hours and already he was exhausted from having to deal with the Joker for so long without a break. He didn’t speak and the clown didn’t attempt to get him to, apparently all too happy to bask in whatever it was he thought he won.

It took much too long, in Bruce’s opinion, for them to finally get a whiff of decaying bodies, even longer for them to see discarded, flesh dotted bones floating in the sewage; they even passed by a skull, half of it crushed and gone, the other half covered in a patchy layer of long, dark hair.

“Crocy! Crocy, Crocy, Crocy!” Joker began calling, as if the man were a dog or a potbelly pig, even whistling.

“Joker, enou--.”

“Come out, come out, wherever you ar--” the clown’s high pitched tensing tone abruptly cut off as a slick, scaled arm flew out of the water, a giant hand wrapping around his throat and pinning him to the wall.

 _“Joker,”_ Waylon growled, a low, angry reptilian sound rumbling in his chest, eyes narrowed and sharp teeth bared, “y’should know better than to come down into my sewers.”

“There he is,” he laughed, though it was choked by the hand on his throat, his face gaining a small amount of color as oxygen left him. His eyes rolled around loosely in his head before landing on Batman and groaning. “Batsy, sweetums, care to lend a hand?”

He sighed, Killer Croc’s eyes flicking to him for a moment before narrowing back in on the villain. “Waylon, we want to talk about the missing homeless people.”

“I didn’t do it! It took everyone months to realize somethin’ was goin’ down and you immediately blame me?! I eat people, I get it, but I got an agreement and I’m a man of my word.”

“Are you even a _man?”_ the Joker cackled, just to get a rise out of the former wrestler and it worked.

Killer Croc growled, hand tightening before he threw the clown, slamming him against the opposite wall before moving on him with incredible speed, grabbing him by the throat and pinning him down into the piss and shit water before the Joker could catch his breath. “I’d threaten to bite your face off, but it’d only give me indigestion.”

“I know you didn’t do it,” Batman continued, as if his “companion” hadn’t spoken at all, “but there has been some… claims, that it’s symbolic of a bigger problem. I want to see the bodies.”

The Reptilian criminal stared at Batman unblinkingly, ignoring the other man flailing below him. “...Fine. But you can’t ship me back to Arkham for what you see.”

He sighed. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I know this took me a while to update again but writer’s block is a cruel mistress. I’ll try and update more frequently but I make no promises


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